Ordeal (Second Season: episode 2)
by Aliana
Summary: A dangerous situation for Starbuck leads to an unexpected new friend.


From Aliana's Second Season. Episode 2  
Inspirations:   
  
1) Suffering through a bad back sprain during Christmas break while having to deal with two little kids (try not bending when having to tie shoes and give baths!).  
2) Living with a child with high-functioning autism.  
  
A "Battlestar Galactica" story, based on the characters created by Glen Larson.   
  
ORDEAL   
  
  
Final writing: January 23, 2000  
  
The first sensation was the icy coldness of the metal floor against his ear and cheek. The second was a blinding, piercing pain drilling from the center of his back, searing through every nerve, it seemed, when he tried to move. After an indeterminable amount of time, the pain faded to a dull throb, and he slowly opened his eyes, careful to move nothing else, greatly preferring the cold numbness against his face to the prior agony. His eyes opened to darkness, nothing on which to focus, and he closed them again, feeling dizzy, nauseated. A moan escaped as he tried to quell the spinning sensation that was welling up from the pit of his stomach. His ears were ringing. Lieutenant Starbuck slipped into unconsciousness again . . .  
  
Gradually, he became aware of a low, persistent moaning, and eventually he realized it was coming from himself. He stopped and felt his breaths come in short, shallow gasps, pushing his chest against the hard floor. With each breath, he also felt the stabbing pain in the center of his back that radiated like an electrical shock in all directions. By comparison, all of the other aches and pains he felt - a throbbing in the back of his head, aches in various joints from being immobile on the hard floor - were inconsequential. He consciously slowed his breathing to move as little as possible, to escape the sensation of someone drilling a knife through his back. The effort, however, was draining, and his head began to reel, with a feeling of floating, drifting, spinning, that would wash over the other sensations, then retreat. Now images flitted in and out of his consciousness. Random snapshots of recent events. A mob. Angry people. Apollo and Boomer. The shuttle landing. Shouts. Screams. Rage. Madness. Chaos. He could not remember why, nor had the strength to consciously wonder. He simply experienced the random images, not comprehending their importance or relevance to his present situation.   
  
At last, one consistent sound permeated the chaotic sensations. A voice. A single word repeated over and over: "hey!" And then he felt the gentle nudge on his shoulder. He opened his eyes, eyelids flickering, struggling to focus on the shape in front of him, aware enough to be careful not to move. He finally recognized the shape as a foot and legs, belonging to someone kneeling next to him. When he tried to speak, though, the only sound he could make was a low moan. The form shifted, and Starbuck felt something brush the hair from his eyes, press against his forehead.  
  
The voice said, "What happened?"  
  
Concentrating, he was able to whisper, in several careful breaths, "I... don't... know."  
  
"I'm going to move you," the voice said.  
  
Starbuck felt acute panic. "No!" he breathed, tensing. Even that slight movement was enough to send his back into spasms, as a feeling of fire burned into his spine. He gasped in agony and gratefully lost consciousness.  
  
*****  
"Father, what are we going to do?" Apollo paced the bridge, more unsettled than most of the crew had seen him before. His face was bruised, and he cradled his left arm against his chest, but refused to go to the lifestation.  
  
"We have to settle the people down without further violence." Adama frowned, thinking, concentrating. This was one of his worst fears realized. A panic-induced mob. It had started with the failure in the atmosphere of one of the agro ships, damaging a third of the present harvest, leading to the need for severe rationing. He had made fleet-wide announcements, explained the situation, and asked for patience and calm. He then sent teams of warriors to each ship to personally reassure the people, to address concerns, to assuage their fears. Until now, there had been no problems. The people had complained, sometimes vehemently, and the warriors had listened, letting them vent any frustrations. The meetings had always ended with the resigned understanding that the situation, while unpleasant and maybe even difficult, would be temporary.   
  
That is, until Boomer, Apollo, and Starbuck had landed aboard the passenger ship Sagittarius. In recent sectons, reports had filtered to the Galactica of unrest being spawned by a fundamental group of Sagittarians calling themselves *Il Fadim,* Sagittaria for "the Chosen Ones." This time, the group of people gathered in the landing bay of the Sagittarius had been tense and on edge from the start. Even the ordinary Sagittarians were mistrustful of others, but recently, the *Il Fadim* had been insisting that the Commander and the Colonial warriors were deceiving the fleet. They had been predicting an impending disaster of unknown origins, even before the current crisis. And they were using the current situation to fuel this prediction.  
  
As they had done repeatedly in the past several days on other ships, Apollo, Boomer, and Starbuck had spoken to the group as a whole, then spread out to handle individual questions and concerns. The difference this time had been a constant heckling from several of the *Il Fadim* from the start. Eventually, a wave of panic had seized the crowd and chaos had set in. People had started shouting. Objects had been thrown. As the mob mentality took over, people had grabbed at the three warriors and the half-dozen security guards present in the landing bay. Far out numbered, they had not stood a chance. As security had fired lasers set on stun, it had only served to fuel the chaos as more people panicked.   
  
Somehow, Boomer and Apollo had been able to fight their way back to the shuttle, after joining forces. Starbuck, however, had been the furthest from the shuttle at the opposite end of the landing bay, separated from it by the melee. Before sealing the shuttle doors with great anguish, Boomer had caught a glimpse of their friend as the angry crowd had dragged him down. In utter frustration and helplessness, they had had to launch without him, faced with the urgent need to report to the commander, and thwarted by the overwhelming numbers. "Lords of Kobol protect you," Apollo had whispered as Boomer had maneuvered the shuttle out of the bay and headed full throttle for the Galactica.  
  
Twenty centons later, Apollo and Boomer had arrived on the Galactica bridge. Both were battered, bruised, and Apollo cradled an arm that might be broken, but had no time to deal with it. The pain was nothing compared to the desperation he felt for Starbuck. Communications with the Sagittarius were out. And now precious time was passing as they waited for the commander's decision on a course of action.  
  
Adama finally turned a stern face to the two. "Whatever we do, we must reestablish order with no more injuries or casualties, if possible." The commander turned to Colonel Tigh, who was waiting at the communications console. "Prepare three shuttles as quickly as possible, for medical personnel and for warriors, whoever is available, immediately. Have riot gear available, as well. The captain, the lieutenant, and I will be in the lead shuttle. Our first goal will be to talk with the people. If that fails. . ." Adama left the rest unspoken. He turned back to Apollo. Asking him to stay behind would have been a futile effort; thus, Adama had not even bothered, as they had precious little time to waste with arguing. He said, "Before we go, report to the lifestation to see to that arm. It will be at least 30 centons before we are ready to launch."  
  
*****  
The feeling of a wet cloth on his forehead awoke the lieutenant. He opened his eyes once more. This time, a dim light illuminated a face that swam in and out of focus. Finally, it settled into a slightly out of focus image of an older man, maybe 40 or 50 yahrens, with scraggly grey hair and beard. He wore old, well-worn garments, rags almost. Starbuck forced himself to make note of these details, to focus his attention away from the tenseness that gripped his back. The pain was a constant throbbing, but the fear of setting off another spasm like earlier kept him immobile. He was lying on his back, arms resting at his sides, on a makeshift mattress, covered with a blanket, his neck and head well supported but kept level with the rest of his body with a soft material, a pillow or clothing, he could not tell.   
  
Slowly, carefully, without moving his head, he glanced around: blankets hung from pipes to form "walls." A single dim light struggled to illuminate the area, powered from . . .where? Although he could not see it, a crate, upon which the man sat, was the only other furnishing. A heap of electronic devices, parts and pieces and a variety of tools was also out of Starbuck's view behind the bed. Finally, a stale, musty stench permeated his senses, and a constant drone from the ship's energizers could be heard.   
  
When Starbuck shifted his gaze back to his rescuer, the man seemed to cringe and look away. Still looking away, he said in a low, almost monotone voice, "I saw you lying in the corridor, and you did not move. I wanted to help you. I don't know why you were there. You were hurt. . ." His voice trailed off, and he kept his gaze averted.  
  
This time the images returned in sequence, and Starbuck closed his eyes as he remembered: the shuttle landing, greeting the nervous, tense crowd, trying to talk to the people, to reassure them, several angry, taunting voices, the sudden eruption of the panic, the wave and crush of the crowd, being grabbed, struck, pushed, kicked, falling to the ground and trying to escape, and finally, a vicious knick to his spine followed almost immediately by a crashing blow to the back of his head and unconsciousness. Starbuck explained it slowly, wincing and groaning as any expansion of his rib cage brought back the drilling knife in his spine. He felt totally drained by the end. "Where am I now?" he whispered finally.  
  
For several microns, it seemed as if the man had not heard. Starbuck was about to repeat the question, when the man glanced at him, saying in the same monotone, "This is my place where I stay. I avoid the others on this ship, and they leave me alone."  
  
Starbuck noticed that the man was rocking, ever so slightly, as he kept his gaze fixed on the floor. The lieutenant said, "I'm Starbuck. . .who are you?"  
  
"Copernicus."  
  
The lieutenant sensed that his friend was not going to volunteer any more information, and he did not have the strength to drag it out of him. Starbuck took several slow, deliberately shallow breaths, closing his eyes. Once, during a triad game, he had been kicked in the lower back, but the pain had been nothing in comparison to this. He could guess that the ligaments and tendons must have been ripped and torn near his spine with the force of the kick, but there was one small consolation: he could still feel his fingers and toes, so the damage was most likely not to the spine itself. However, when an involuntary cough sent his entire back into fiery spasms for several eternally long centons, he almost wished for paralysis instead. Gradually, the agony subsided.   
  
"Copernicus," he whispered eventually.  
  
The man continued to stare and rock, lost in a world of his own, it seemed.  
  
"Copernicus!" he said again, and almost felt the spasms return. He tried desperately to relax.  
  
"Yes," the man said at last, glancing at the lieutenant briefly.  
  
"Can you contact the Galactica for me?," he whispered slowly. "Or someone - a security guard - anyone!" Starbuck pleaded, confused by his rescuer's withdrawal.  
  
Copernicus stood, pacing back and forth, saying, "I don't know. I can't talk to people." He finally looked the lieutenant in the eyes. "I physically can't deal with lots of people - all of the noise, the images, the smells - it scrambles my senses. I've always been this way. Always. . ." He withdrew again, his eyes glazing. Then Starbuck saw his lips moving, and watched in puzzlement and growing apprehension as Copernicus seemed to hold a very quiet but animated conversation with himself. After several centons, he said aloud, glancing at Starbuck, "I will try!"  
  
The lieutenant closed his eyes again, drained, unable to hold back the dizziness that was swelling from inside. His head was throbbing, throbbing... He slipped into unconsciousness again. Copernicus put a hand to the lieutenant's chest and felt a rise and fall, but it was uneven, irregular, and shallow. He noticed that the cloths supporting the warrior's head were stained with blood.  
  
Taking several deep breaths of his own, Copernicus turned and hurried out down the corridor. He concentrated on a line of piping that ran at the top of the corridor, tracking it with his eyes. Copernicus often marveled that he had been able to survive the holocaust, especially amazed that he had been able to endure the chaos of boarding the escaping ships filled with people and had been able to adjust to his new environment. He knew he would never have made it without the help of his one true friend, the woman whom he was now seeking, Tarnia.   
  
Back on Sagittarius, he had lived in a partial-aid facility for people with disabilities. As a small child, he had been overwhelmed by sensory input due to a neurological disorder. He could not handle all of the sights, sounds, smells, and sensations that the average person processes subconsciously every moment. For him, the world was chaotic, and he had withdrawn into his own inner world. He had not learned to speak until nearly 5-yarhens-old, and even now, verbal communication was difficult for him. However, with the help of caring parents and teachers, he had learned to handle and cope with his disability. He had made it through the secondary school and even through several semesters at a technical university. Later, at the residential facility, with the help of several others, but mostly through Tarnia's aid and support, he had made a living repairing electronics, as well as through creating and selling his own small inventions. Anything technical or electronic held a great fascination for him, to the point of obsession, really. Whereas people were random and unpredictable, stressing his sensory controls, the physics behind all electronic devices never changed and were second nature to him, almost. Had his disability and his inability to deal with people and new situations not hampered him, he could have made great accomplishments.  
  
On that fateful night of the Cylon raids and destruction of the homeworlds, it was solely because of Tarnia that he had survived. She had pulled him from his apartment and literally dragged him screaming to the transport, and she had vehemently protected him through all that had followed, until finally they were settled on the Sagittarius. She had even located his current "residence" for him and now acted as his intermediary for supplies and electronics to repair for the other occupants.   
  
So intense was Copernicus' concentration that he had reached the residential area of the ship before he knew it. He prayed furiously now that Tarnia would be in her quarters. With only a slight hesitation, he opened the hatch. Closing his eyes, he used his hand to guide his way to the nearest residence to his left and rapped loudly four times on the door. Eyes still closed, he could feel his heart pounding against his chest as he waited. A moment later, he heard the door open, and a pair of hands gently pulled him inside the tiny room. As the familiar smells filled his senses, he opened his eyes to see Tarnia gazing questioningly at him.  
  
In the familiar setting, surrounded by familiar sights, sounds, and smells, he could relax and feel as he thought a "normal" person must feel. Tarnia waited patiently as Copernicus mentally prepared what he needed to say, not rushing him, for she knew that would just unsettle him. She knew that for him, speaking even his own language was much like someone trying to speak a second language in which that person was not quite fluent. Finally, he said, "a man was in the corridor, and he needs help. He is hurt and bleeding. I put him in my bed, but he is not well. He is a warrior from the Galactica."  
  
Tarnia understood immediately about whom he was speaking, for everyone knew what had happened only a short while ago. While she had not been in the landing bay, the captain had come over the ship-wide intercom only a short while ago, explaining, and asking everyone to remain in their quarters, except for emergency personnel and anyone with medical training, who were to report immediately to the landing bay. There, at least 20 to 30 were injured, some severely, but no fatalities as of yet. He had pleaded for a return to calm by all, stressing that he had no desire for punishment, only to reestablish order. Finally, the captain had explained that one of the three warriors present at the onset of the riot was missing and implored those involved to at least tell someone where to find him.  
  
Tarnia was about to respond when the intercom crackled again. Copernicus winced, covering his ears. The captain's voice spoke a moment later: "I have just spoken with the commander. He will be arriving aboard the Sagittarius shortly to speak with all of you. We ask that you remain in your quarters and listen to his words. Again, we seek not to condemn or punish, only to settle your fears and to reassure you that we will survive this crisis."  
  
Copernicus uncovered his ears slowly and looked at Tarnia, silent. She let out a long, deep breath. "Go back and help the warrior." She spoke clearly, slowly, to be sure he understood and to keep him calm. "I will tell the captain. Very soon, he will send people to bring the warrior back to the Galactica." She could see Copernicus tensing at the prospect of unfamiliar people invading his "safe area." She gently gripped his shoulders and said, "Don't worry. I will be with them. Now, go!"  
  
Tarnia led him back out of her quarters and through the service hatch that led to the maintenance corridors below, down where Copernicus felt safe and secure. She watched only briefly as he disappeared down the dark passage. To carry out her promise that she would accompany any rescuers, she knew she needed to speak directly to the captain. As she reached the exit hatch for her residential level, however, a security guard stood in front of the door. She slowed as she approached him.  
  
"Ma'am," he said, raising his hand to indicate that she should stop. "Please return to your quarters, as the captain requested." He gave her a stern look.  
  
Tarnia looked him in the eye and said, "Sir, I used to be a medical aide. I want to help." It was almost a true statement, though her pervious occupation before the holocaust had been as a counselor, not a medical aide.  
  
The guard's expression changed, and he waved her on, saying, "Go, please! We need all the help we can get in the landing bay."  
  
Using the same excuse with the rest of the guards she encountered, Tarnia made it to the landing bay about 10 centons later. When the lift door hissed open, she gasped at the scene in front of her. The landing bay was strewn with debris and broken equipment. In an area near the opposite corner from where she had entered she first heard, then saw, the cluster of victims and people providing aide. She knew that the Sagittarius' medical staff was small, no more than a dozen beds, three doctors, and five or so technicians. Most likely, she figured, the injured would be transported to the Galactica for treatment. Looking closely, she spotted the captain working side-by-side with the doctors. She had known she would find him here, for he was a compassionate man who cared deeply for his passengers and crew.   
  
Treading her way through the debris towards the captain, she was about to call to him when everyone's attention was distracted by the sound of arriving shuttles. She stopped to watch the three Galactica shuttles glide to a landing.  
  
*****  
Commander Adama glanced at his two silent officers as the shuttle eased onto the landing bay. Neither had said a word during the twenty-centon flight to the Sagittarius. Both looked tired, tense and worried. Apollo wore a brace on his left forearm; a hairline fracture had been fused, but muscles and ligaments would be tender for a while. Moments before they had departed, communications had been restored, so they knew, at least, the general status of the ship. They also knew that Starbuck was not among the victims being treated in the landing bay, that so far no one knew -- or was telling -- where he was. Adama felt the same apprehension that Apollo and Boomer were feeling, but he also knew his first priority was to be sure that order had been restored.  
  
As the three craft landed, all aboard knew their responsibilities. The medical teams exited quickly, spreading out among the injured to assess the situation and to tend to the most critically injured first, working in coordination with the Sagittarius' personnel. Within centons, stretchers were brought out, and the five most seriously wounded were loaded aboard one of the shuttles for immediate transport back to the Galactica. With the threat of any more rioting apparently gone, the thirty warriors also spread out among the injured to assist where needed.  
  
Commander Adama, Apollo, and Boomer waited briefly while the teams went into action, then approached the captain, who had also moved back and out of the way. "Captain," Adama nodded as they approached. "What is your current situation?"  
  
With cropped black hair, peppered grey, and dark brown, almost black eyes, Captain Tovar stood a half a head taller than the commander. As he spoke, his gaze shifted to the medical teams, watching them work, his concern and frustration at what had happened written in the stern expression on his face. "This is mainly what is left to take care of. All civilians not involved here have been sent to their quarters and asked to stay there until advised otherwise. My crew reports that everyone is obeying and all is calm. We have detained no one, as per your request." Captain Tovar returned his gaze to the commander and the two officers. "I have a team of three - that's all the crew I could spare -- searching for the lieutenant. So far, nothing. And there have been no other reports of missing persons." He shook his head. "So far, either the people are too frightened to talk or they don't know what happened to him."  
  
Apollo started, "Commander -" but was interrupted by another voice shouting the commander's name. All four turned to see a woman approaching from behind one of the shuttles, having had to detour around the medical scene.  
  
Captain Tovar recognized her face but did not remember her name. As soon as she was close enough, Tarnia said, "Commander! I can take you to your warrior. I know where he is!"  
  
For the first time in the past several centaurs, Adama, Apollo, and Boomer felt a glimmer of relief. "Where?" Apollo spoke first.  
  
Tarnia looked up at Captain Tovar. "He's with Copernicus."  
  
At the mention of Copernicus, who was known by all of the crew, her face clicked. "Tarnia," the captain said. "Do you know what happened?"  
  
She shook her head. "No, not really. All I know is that Copernicus came to me and said that he had found the warrior near his area. He's hurt, but I don't know how badly."  
  
Adama placed a hand on Apollo's shoulder as he spoke, "Apollo, you and Boomer go with -" He paused to look at her.  
  
"Tarnia," she filled in.  
  
He continued, "with Tarnia. I need to speak with the people."  
  
Tovar added, "Once the commander and I are on the bridge, I will notify the search team to help you."  
  
The two warriors nodded, eager to find Starbuck, finally. Adama and the captain headed towards the bridge, while Apollo and Boomer motioned for Tarnia to lead the way. As they hurried to their destination, Tarnia explained about Copernicus and why he lived where he did. She cautioned them that their presence would be stressful for him, and it would be difficult for him to communicate. Patience, she said, was the key.   
  
Even at a near run, it took ten centons to reach the lower service area where Copernicus resided. The corridor was dark, illuminated only by dim lights spaced out near the ceiling. As they neared Copernicus' area, Tarnia slowed. As they rounded the final turn, she came to an abrupt halt when his tiny alcove became visible. Apollo and Boomer nearly collided with her. They were about to question her when they looked over her to the scene beyond. Apollo felt a hard knot in his stomach as he looked at the scattered remains of Copernicus' electronics littering the corridor. His blanket walls had been torn down, and everything strewn about. No one seemed to be present, not Starbuck, not Copernicus. The deathly silence of the scene gripped the three.  
  
"By the Lords. . ." Boomer whispered.  
  
Tarnia was the first to move. "Copernicus!" she shouted, rushing forward. She hurriedly searched the area, then moved further down the corridor. Feeling numb by the turn of events, Apollo and Boomer followed her. She continued to call his name, her voice echoing through the passage. They were about to turn around when she heard a low moaning hum. She instantly recognized it as Copernicus in full distress mode. At the same instant, she heard the footsteps of the search team, she assumed. Tarnia turned quickly and said, "Captain! Keep them back there! If we overwhelm Copernicus, we'll never find out what happened!"  
  
His instincts telling him to trust her, Apollo hurried back to meet the three security guards that had been sent by the captain. He motioned for them to stay back as they, too, surveyed Copernicus' wrecked residence. Boomer trailed behind Tarnia as she tried to locate the source of the humming. As they moved slowly down the corridor, a figure huddled in a space below a series of piping grew visible. Tarnia indicated for Boomer to stay back as she slowly approached. Copernicus sat beneath the pipes, knees hugged tightly to his chest, rocking vigorously back and forth, his breathing coming in the constant hum. His eyes were open but glassy. She swallowed, letting out a long-held breath, and said slowly, distinctly, "Copernicus!"  
  
He made no indication of hearing her. Tarnia turned to Boomer and said, "He's in complete withdrawal. It may take some time to bring him out again. Please, be patient."   
  
Boomer nodded and headed back to inform Apollo.  
  
Tarnia focused her attention on Copernicus. Kneeling in front of him, she said repeatedly, slowly and clearly, "Copernicus. It's Tarnia." For several centons he continued to hum and rock, oblivious. Tarnia persisted, keeping her tone firm but calm. Finally, his eyes darted briefly in her direction, and the humming stopped, but the rocking continued.  
  
Careful to stay out of the way, Apollo, Boomer, and the three security guards waited silently, if not patiently. Apollo kept glancing at his chronometer, which glowed in the dim light. He was keenly aware that almost three centaurs had passed since this nightmare had begun. And like a bad dream, it just seemed to get worse and worse. He glanced at Boomer, who was shifting from foot to foot. He froze when he heard Copernicus' voice break the silence.  
  
"Flickering lights. Flickering lights. Flickering lights," he said. His voice was a monotone, and he continued to repeat the phrase, still rocking.  
  
*****  
A strong fragrance burning in his nostrils penetrated the darkness and dragged him once again to consciousness. This time, Starbuck fought it, mentally struggling to hold onto the dream he had been experiencing, a dream not dominated by the agony of being dragged around this infernal ship from one place to another. He had lost track of where he was and whom he was with, remembering only that each time he awoke, it seemed as if someone had to move him, which triggered the overwhelming torrent of muscle spasms. And he was tired, drained, frustrated, frustrated.  
  
Despite his efforts, the dream faded, replaced by the steady, piercing pain in the center of his back. "Frak. . . ." he muttered, reluctantly opening his eyes. He was lying on a less-than-comfortable pad on the floor, which did nothing to ease the pain. Looking around, moving his head only slightly, he could not discern where he was, which left him feeling disoriented. He saw flickering shadows, which he finally realized were from candles placed below the range of his vision around the perimeter, which probably accounted for the fragrance. He was not in a residence; he could see the walls angle to the corridor, which stretched out into the darkness to his right. It seemed to be some kind of maintenance area. Looking up, he saw several service panels and a large grate covering, most likely a ventilation shaft. To his left were a wall and more access panels. Still somewhere in the bowels of this ship, he thought to himself.  
  
Squinting at the shadows, he realized that a dozen people sat motionless around him. They were all wrapped in dark shrouds and blended with the walls with the flickering darkness from the candles. "What in Hades. . ." he managed to whisper. He had a surreal feeling. Total confusion. A nightmare out of control. He closed his eyes tightly shut, then opened them again, blinking, but the scene had not changed. He felt his pulse and breathing quickening as his mind raced to make sense of it all, unsuccessfully.   
  
The sound of footsteps tapping and echoing in the corridor broke the silence. Startled, Starbuck moved his head too quickly, setting off the muscle spasms in his back. He gritted his teeth: "Frak, frak, frak, frak, frak!" and managed not to cry out, eyes squeezed shut. When he was able to relax finally, opening his eyes, a tall figure stood above him. In the dark shadows from the candles, Starbuck could not discern his features, but saw the impression of a bearded face. Like the others around him, the man also seemed to wear a dark cloak or shawl. Two more people stood near the passage to the corridor. "Who are you and what in Hades is going on?" the lieutenant finally whispered.  
  
*****  
Captain Apollo, out of patience, was about to demand that they start searching again, when Copernicus stopped rocking and looked directly at Tarnia. "People. Candles. Dark shawls. Yelling. Chanting. Loud. Loud! Breaking everything!" Copernicus repeated it several times.  
  
Tarnia looked at Apollo, Boomer, and the three security guards. "That's that crazy *Il Fadim* group!"  
  
The guards nodded, understanding. One said, "We're constantly chasing them from these lower levels. They must be somewhere down in these service corridors."  
  
Apollo had heard the rumors of the group but knew no specifics. However, at the moment, he did not care; he knew that they had been at the heart of the riot and now apparently had Starbuck. Feeling anger growing along with his frustration, Apollo took several deep breaths to stay calm. "All right, Boomer, go with these two here and search that way," he indicated two of the security guards and pointed down the corridor, then nodded to the other. "You," he said, "come with me! Report in every 15 centons." Apollo pulled his transceiver from his belt, and Boomer did the same. With a determined look, Apollo, Boomer, and the security guards headed in opposite directions down the dark corridor.  
  
Tarnia had turned to watch and listen. When she turned back to comfort Copernicus, he was gone. "What?" she said in surprise and searched for him, but he had vanished, seemingly. Not knowing what else to do, she began cleaning up the debris and broken electronics.   
  
*****  
The voice that broke the silence was bitter, harsh. "Warrior, today you will join is on our journey. Today we take a new path, the path to enlightenment and peace. For nearly a yahren we have followed the course of this fleet, in the hope that all shall escape the devastation wrought by the Cylons, but we see no end, only the slow withering of our souls, as we waste away in these metal tombs."  
  
Starbuck frowned up at the figure above him. His head was starting to pound as he tried to make sense of everything. "Who are you?" he asked.  
  
"We are *Il Fadim*. And our time is now." The man drew his arm out from under the shroud to reveal a large flask and turned to the people sitting around the candles. He spoke to them in Sagittaria. As the silent people rose, they approached the man, extending a small bowl. He carefully poured a portion of liquid from the flask into each bowl, and the people resumed their silent positions on the floor, each holding his portion cradled in both hands.  
  
And as Starbuck watched, turning his head slowly and carefully, it all clicked. "Now wait one centon! This is not the answer!" he spoke as loudly as he dared.  
  
The man ignored him, continuing to fill the bowls. Eventually, all except the two men standing at the corridor exit sat holding the bowls, silent, still, waiting . . . for what? Starbuck got the distinct impression that they were waiting for something. "Look," he tried again, "just what will this prove?"  
  
The man had filled one last bowl and sat with it on the floor next to Starbuck, facing him. "We seek to prove nothing. We are simply fulfilling our destinies. It is time to release our souls from the abyss that encompasses us all."  
Starbuck wanted to shake his head in disbelief but dared not. "You're nuts!" he whispered. Surely, this was just a nightmare, and he would awake to find himself in his bunk back on the Galactica. Things certainly could not be any more bizarre.  
  
The sound of pounding footfalls, growing nearer and nearer, permeated the silence. The man nodded brusquely, stood, and withdrew a laser, as did the two men standing near the corridor. Undoubtedly, the weapons had been acquired during the earlier riot. The wait, apparently, was over. Moments later, Starbuck saw two people come to an abrupt halt near the two armed men, and a welcomingly familiar voice said, "What's going on here?"  
  
Starbuck looked up to see the barrel of the laser pointed squarely at his head. The man stepped over and behind him to have a clear view of the new arrivals, and to give them an unobstructed view of the lieutenant. "Hand over you weapons," he said.  
  
Apollo and the security guard hesitated. "Look, I've called for reinforcements," the captain stated. "Put down the lasers, and no one will be hurt. Let's talk."  
  
"Our time is at an end!" The man answered. "Hand over the weapons!" For emphasis, he placed his boot under Starbuck's shoulder and lifted, setting off the fiery spasms. Starbuck let out a loud gasp and clenched his teeth as the pain coursed through his back muscles. "I will fire if you do not obey," the man added.   
  
Reluctantly, slowly, Apollo and the security guard handed their lasers to the other men. The captain had a foreboding feeling as he and the guard, flanked by the two with the weapons, moved forward into the candle-lit service area. He shifted his gaze from Starbuck's grimacing face, to the laser aimed unwaveringly at the lieutenant's head, to the shrouded man holding the gun. "What do you want?" Apollo asked.  
  
A menacing smile spread across the man's lips, yet his eyes remained cold. Kneeling beside the lieutenant, he leveled the laser at Apollo, and keeping his unwavering gaze on his audience, he lifted the bowl, which had been sitting on the floor. "You are the witness to our salvation," he said, "and your friend shall lead the way for us!" Dropping the laser, the man quickly grasped Starbuck by the jaw and moved to force the contents of the bowl in his mouth. Starbuck, despite the pain, grabbed at the man's hands, but he had no strength, as the wild muscle contractions in his back broke all of his leverage. With a feeling of horror, he had the nightmare sensation of being paralyzed, totally helpless in the face of impending doom. Events seemed to move in slow motion.  
  
Then, without warning and before Apollo or anyone else could react, the grated cover on the ventilation shaft popped loose and tumbled down on top of Starbuck's aggressor. It was followed by Copernicus sliding out headfirst, screaming as he came, landing squarely on the man's shoulders. The momentum carried them forward, over Starbuck, and as they hit the floor, Copernicus rolled and twisted so that he ended up on top of the man. In a fury and still screaming, he sat up, straddling the man's back and gripping him by the hair, and pounded his head against the floor.  
  
Although startled by the sudden turn of events, Apollo and the security guard were still able to act as soon as the falling cover caught everyone's attention. With several skillful blows, they quickly subdued their two guards and retrieved the lasers. Apollo then motioned to his companion, and they pulled Copernicus, still screaming and out of control, from the now limp form. While the security guard held Copernicus from behind, arms locked around him, Apollo grasped his hands and repeated sternly and slowly, "Calm down, calm down." Finally, he stopped fighting and relaxed. When the guard let go, Copernicus retreated from everyone, withdrawing once again, sitting and rocking.  
  
The twelve silent followers, who up until then had observed everything passively, had scrambled out of the way, some dropping the bowls, spilling the liquid, others holding them tightly. Amazingly, none of the candles had been knocked over. With their leader out of commission, no one seemed to know what to do. They huddled together, some crying softly, confused. And no one had made a move to consume the poison. Apollo quickly and wordlessly took the remaining bowls away from those still clutching them, handing one to the security guard so they could analyze the substance later.   
  
Then, with the security guard watching the three *Il Fadim,* Apollo grabbed his transceiver from his belt and called for a medical team. He also told Boomer, who had nearly reached them, to bring Tarnia to deal with Copernicus, who sat silently now, rocking. Finally, he knelt next to Starbuck. The lieutenant lay moaning, eyes closed, only semi-conscious after the strain of attempting to fight. "Hey, buddy," Apollo whispered, "it won't be long now. We'll have you out of here soon."  
  
*****  
"How is he?" Apollo asked. He and Boomer stood out of the way of the medical team as the two technicians carefully fitted a neck brace on Starbuck before transferring him to the stretcher. The lieutenant gave Apollo a drowsy smile, feeling blissfully pain-free now that the strong local anesthetic had taken affect. The med techs, one on each side, carefully lifted him onto the stretcher, fastening the safety straps to secure him.  
  
As they finished, one of the technicians turned to the two warriors and explained, "He has a concussion and a serious back injury, but he should be all right. Since it's better to keep him conscious with a concussion, we gave him the local anesthetic and muscle relaxant, as opposed to full sedation." The med tech glanced at his patient. "He should feel nothing with the amount we used." He nodded to his partner. "Let's get him out of here."  
  
Apollo wanted nothing more than to follow the technicians, but he and Boomer still had one more concern to attend to. Earlier, the three *Il Fadim,* including the groggy leader, had been escorted away by several warriors for transport to the Galactica, where they would face a variety of charges. The Sagittarius' full complement of security and several medical technicians had been employed to deal with the followers and lead them back to their quarters. All available counselors throughout the fleet had been called to provide assistance for them. And as the two med techs quickly carried away the stretcher, a hollow silence settled on the scene.   
  
Apollo turned to the two remaining people and asked, "Will he be all right?"  
  
Tarnia looked up from where she sat next to Copernicus, who was still gently rocking, silent. She smiled faintly, "He should be fine now that the crowd is gone. He'll be able to respond in a few centons."  
  
Boomer shook his head. "I don't understand how or why he did it. How did he find us through the ventilation shaft? And why did he help us?"  
  
Tarnia put a hand gently on Copernicus' shoulder as she explained. "Well, first, he knows these ventilation shafts like the palm of his hand. He travels through them a lot because they are narrow and reduce the extraneous sensory stimuli. And he is a visual thinker, so he has them memorized like a road map; he could go to just about anywhere in the ship this way. Whereas we might find the ventilation shaft tight and confining, he finds it comforting.  
  
"As for why," Tarnia continued, "he also has one heck of a temper, as you saw. Those men destroyed his home and the electronic equipment. His electronics are everything to him. It infuriated him. Growing up, he learned to control his screaming and his fits, which could be pretty violent, but occasionally, something will still set him off. Anyway," Tarnia looked from Apollo to Boomer, "he'll be fine. Go on. I'll see that he gets back and help him put things back in order."  
  
Looking visibly relieved, both warriors said a quick "thank-you" and headed for the upper level of the ship to meet the commander.  
  
*****  
As Starbuck walked slowly through the dark passages, trailing behind Tarnia, he felt a mixture of trepidation and relief. A secton had passed since his ordeal with the *Il Fadim,* and all of the physical injuries were mending. Doctor Salik had skillfully sealed a thin skull fracture and repaired the ripped and torn muscles and ligaments in his back. Special enzyme and biomedical therapy accelerated the healing process to all of the damaged tissues, nerves, and blood vessels. After being confined for three days to the lifestation, he had been finally released but had to continue the therapy for another secton. And he would not be permitted to return to active duty for at least two.  
  
He had a feeling, though, that the psychological scars would take a little longer to heal. Confronting death while fighting the Cylons was not the same as having another human being try to kill him for irrational reasons. For the past secton, his sleep had been broken by a reoccurring dream, one in which he kept reliving the terrifying sensations of total helplessness, of having absolutely no control over his fate. While he had been in the lifestation, attached to monitors that recorded every heartbeat and breath, it had been impossible to conceal the dreams after awaking in a cold sweat with a rapid pulse and gasping for air. But once allowed to return to the crew quarters, he had insisted, even to Cassiopeia, that they no longer bothered him.  
  
During the first day in the lifestation and after the surgery, he had been kept sedated, but once awake and as his friends came to visit, he presented them with his characteristic humor and optimism, making jokes and complaining about the inactivity. During the second day, Apollo and Boomer had filled him in on everything that had happened, including what the fleet records revealed about the *Il Fadim* leader, a man named Sherok. A detailed search had revealed that he had been institutionalized for a while and had lived with the aid of medications before the holocaust. However, with all of chaos that followed the destruction of the homeworlds and the massive task of creating a social structure among 220 ships, it had been ages since he had received any medication. Through his schizophrenic mind, he had created and organized the *Il Fadim,* finding enough weary, confused people to actually have a following, including his two "lieutenants." Commander Adama, on one of his visits to Starbuck, informed him that a renewed effort was being made to identify all of those needing mental and other special services who had so far slipped through the cracks. What would happen to Sherok depended on the outcome of the psychological evaluations. Starbuck found the thought that he might be released eventually unsettling.  
  
Apollo and Boomer had also described to him how Copernicus had been instrumental in his rescue and had told him what they knew about him from both Tarnia and fleet records. During the next day of his confinement in the lifestation and in the time after his release, Starbuck had spent his excess time researching the Galactica's computer library system, partly as an active way to battle his nightmares and as a way to learn more about Sherok's and Copernicus' conditions. After all, he probably owed his life to the latter.  
  
Finally, after a secton, Starbuck was given permission to return to the Sagittarius to thank his unlikely benefactor. Apollo, Boomer, and Cassiopeia had volunteered to come with him, but he had insisted on coming alone. To them, he explained that he did not want to overwhelm Copernicus with too many unfamiliar people. He did not mention the desire also to confront the setting of his nightmares. He had a feeling, though, that Cassiopeia, at least, suspected that he had been less than open about the dreams and how he truly felt. She had given him several sideways glances on various occasions after he had made jokes about his situation. She knew him well enough to know when he was playing a "poker face." Still, she had kept silent and not pushed the issue, knowing that if he wanted to talk about it, he would. He respected and loved her for that quality.  
  
And now he found himself slowly traversing the dark corridors that had been haunting his dreams as he followed Tarnia to meet with Copernicus. Tarnia sensed his tension and turned to ask, "Are you okay, Lieutenant?"  
  
Starbuck gave her a classic grin, saying, "Sure! I'm just a bit stiff still and can't move real fast yet."  
  
Tarnia still sensed his nervousness but did not mention it. Instead, she said, "When we get to Copernicus' area, let me talk to him first. I've already told him that you are coming, so he should be receptive. If he knows what to expect, he should be fine. It's the unannounced or unexpected changes to his routine that set him off."  
  
Starbuck nodded and silently followed her the rest of the way to Copernicus' habitation. When they were several metrons away, Tarnia indicated for him to wait while she spoke to her friend. As he watched her approach him, Starbuck could see that Copernicus was sitting on the floor surrounded by tools and equipment, working furiously on what appeared at that distance to be a portable video-com. Tarnia had to loudly say his name three times before Copernicus broke his concentration and looked up at his visitor. She said something else and pointed back to Starbuck. Copernicus smiled broadly and waved the lieutenant forward.  
  
Surrounded by his work, Copernicus seemed at ease as Starbuck approached. "Hello, hello, hello!" he said. He then went into a detailed explanation of the repairs he was doing on the video-com, speaking loudly and excitedly, all the while still working on his project.  
  
Starbuck waited for him to finish, saying finally, "That's fascinating, Copernicus." He sat on the floor to make eye contact and to get his attention. "Copernicus," he said slowly and clearly. "Can you listen to me?"  
  
The man stopped working and looked at Starbuck, saying, "I'm listening."  
  
"Thank you for helping me," Starbuck said. Copernicus made no reaction. The lieutenant continued, still speaking distinctly, "I want to help you, too. Do you want to be able to make lots of creations? I know a place with piles and piles of electronics. You could work there." The idea was not new to Copernicus because Tarnia had already explained several times what Starbuck would be asking him, to give him time to think about it and not be overwhelmed by the thought of leaving his safe area.  
  
Copernicus managed to look both equally fascinated and tense. He shifted, looked away, but said, "Where?"  
  
"Doctor Wilker's lab on the Galactica. He could use a brilliant mind like yours to help create new inventions for the fleet."  
  
Copernicus stared at the floor for several centons, deep in thought. Finally, he looked directly at Starbuck and said, "I want to try. If Tarnia is with me, I want to try. I want to try."  
  
Starbuck sat back and smiled, feeling a relief. He was convinced that part of his own healing involved helping Copernicus, understanding him, getting to know him, giving him an outlet for his capabilities, and finding more assistance for him. The rest of the ordeal would fade with time, Starbuck knew, and the dreams would, he hoped, subside. Regardless, he was grateful to be able to help this unique man who had aided a complete stranger, despite how difficult it might have been for him.  
  
El fin  



End file.
